


The Wolf and the Dragon

by Rhaegars



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, The Knight of the Laughing Tree, Tourney at Harrenhal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-17
Updated: 2017-09-18
Packaged: 2018-12-30 22:30:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,811
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12118590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rhaegars/pseuds/Rhaegars
Summary: "And the mystery knight should win the tourney, defeating every challenger, and name the wolf maid the queen of love and beauty.""She was," said Meera, "but that's a sadder story."- Bran, ASOS; Chapter 24





	1. The Knight of the Laughing Tree

They did not know.

They cheered for her when she knocked Lord Frey's helmet off and he fell into the dirt and they cheered for her when she broke Lord Haigh's shield with her lance and he, too, fell.

They cheered. And they did not know.

She'd used her impression of Brandon when she spoke, making her voice deep and booming. The impression was usually meant to draw laughter from her brothers but was very useful in this instance as well.

What would happen, she wondered, if her helmet fell off and they all saw her. A woman, jousting!

Just imagining the looks on their faces made her smile, though, who knew how the king would react.

It was that thought alone that had made her be very sure that the helmet was a perfect fit, even if the rest of her armor was wonky. She'd taken whatever she could find, as this had to be a secret.

She'd found a white wooden shield and so, being inspired, outlined a heart tree with its red crown. Her artistry was not, perhaps, something to admire as it looked quite plain so she gave the tree a face.

With a big grin.

And so with the paint still wet on her shield, she'd gone and signed up for the jousting and here she was. Lord Blount was defeated and the crowd was cheering.

Cheering for her, for the mystery knight. Her entire body was alight.

As the three lords sought to ransom back their horses and armor from her she told them;

“Teach your squires honor, that shall be ransom enough.”


	2. The She-Wolf

She ran.

Blood pumping, heart racing.

She had to stop herself from laughing out loud.

It didn't matter right now that the king was furious, that he thought the tree on the shield was laughing at him, that he thought her an enemy and had sent people to find her and bring her to him.

She wasn't afraid of the mad king right now, she was victorious.

She'd defeated the lords she'd challenged and they'd chastised their squires. She'd defended sweet, gentle Howland Reed's honor. When she'd seen those awful squires bullying the crannogman, just a boy really, she'd been blinded with rage.

She'd grabbed a tourney sword and beat them with it whilst shouting. Benjen made a joke later about wolfsblood but she did not care.

She'd made justice.

And she'd beat three lords several years her senior. Flung them into the dirt.

She knew jousting was not like real fighting, but the victory sang through her blood nontheless.

Her father didn't like her 'playing' with swords. He wanted her to sing and sew and marry Robert Baratheon and be his dutiful little wife.

She didn't want any of that.

She wanted to travel the world and _fight_.

When a sword was in her hand, she felt complete. As if a piece that was previously missing had finally slid into place.

She sometimes fantasized about running away and joining a mercenary company in Essos but at the same time knew that would never come to be.

She loved Winterfell too dearly. But also if she disappeared, her brothers would come looking. Even if she left a note.

And Robert.

Just the thought of him made her tired. He looked at her as if she was every one of his dreams come to life even though they'd barely ever spoken to each other.

She dreaded the day they'd be married and she would be shipped off to Storm's End. He was so in love with the idea of her that she was afraid of how he would react when he came to know her truly.

She imagined that she'd run away long before they were every married but did not quite believe it.

The only ones who truly knew her were Ned, and Benjen. She loved Brandon dearly, but he saw her as his precious little sister and could not look past that.

Benjen was her younger brother, and the one she always coerced into sparring with her, hidden away in the godswood of Winterfell. Ned would watch them sometimes, join them sometimes.

The godswood had always been her sanctuary so that was where she was headed now. Even though home was far away, as long as there was a weirwood, it felt close.

She found the massive heart tree quickly, it's white branches and red leaves standing out amongst the pines. The tree had a horrible face, angry and twisted in what looked like pain, not at all like the face of sorrow she'd grown up with at Winterfell.

She drew her fingers across it's ragged cheek in greeting nevertheless. The leaves above her whispered their greeting in turn and she felt at peace.

The paint on her shield had a slash running through the branches from when Lord Blount had run his lance along it. But it was still intact.

She thanked it and hung it on a low-hanging branch.

“There you are.”

She whipped around, her armor clanging.

It was dark in the woods and difficult to see from under the helmet but that voice was unmistakeable.

Rhaegar Targaryen.

She hadn't expected anyone to come to the godswood. The southerners because they didn't care for the old gods and the northerners because there were feasts aplenty.

But she'd been found.

_By the prince._

Foolish! She'd been so caught up in her victory that she hadn't thought to discard the armor. If she'd just been Lyanna Stark in the godswood he'd just kept looking.

“Knight of the Laughing Tree they're calling you.” he said, the tone of his voice casual.

She did not respond, not trusting her voice to not betray her.

“My father thinks you are his enemy.”

She was no fool. Everyone knew about the mad king and his cruelty. How he'd burn people alive for sometimes not doing anything at all, just his delusions.

If she was caught, there was no doubt she'd be next.

The woods were vast, all she had to do was lose him.

So right as the prince was going to speak again, she turned and fled into the woods.

She heard him exclaim in surprise and then the rustle of leaves as he ran after her.

The deeper they got into the woods, the darker it became. Her breathing was hard underneath the helmet; it was suffocating, but she could still hear him behind her so she kept running.

Since it was so dark, she did not see the stream. She ran right into it, lost her footing and fell face-first, water rushing into her helmet and into her mouth. Before she could do anything, hands grabbed at her armor and pulled her out of the water.

She couldn't see anything and she was coughing and then there were hands at her helmet's clasp and then it was off of her.

As she drew in gulps of air, she came face to face with the prince.

The moonlight lined his silver hair and his deep blue eyes were wide with shock. She stared back at him, frozen in fear. She'd been found out.

She prayed that he wouldn't recognize her. Maybe she was just a kitchen wench or someone's handmaiden but his mouth that had hung open formed the words:

“ _Lady Stark?_ ”


	3. Lady Stark

She was running again. This time more terrified than ever.

The prince had found her, had pulled her out of a shallow stream and taken her helmet off.

Had _seen_ her.

And recognized her.

By the gods, he'd recognized her.

And she'd...

She'd just reacted.

And kneed him in the crotch.

Whilst _wearing armor._

It had been so easy, he was kneeling in front of her in the water. And her body had just reacted on it's own. Not intending to... _kneel him in the crotch_... but to flee, perhaps?

He'd doubled over afterwards, the air wheezing out of him and she'd panicked, gasped out an apology and escaped. She'd ripped the armor off as she went, tossing pieces into the foliage.

When she snuck into the back of her family's tent she was only wearing a sweaty shift, Benjen was curled up in his bed asleep but otherwise the tent was empty.

She quietly slipped into a clean sleeping gown and got into bed with her little brother, not wanting to be alone if this was to be her last night alive.

Benjen blinked at her, sleepy, and murmured “You smell like sweat.”

She shushed him and had to choke down a bout of hysterical laughter before exhaustion caught up with her.

-

She did not sleep well.

All she could think about was the moment she'd kneed the prince in his royal bollocks.

_By the gods._

All morning she waited for the kingsguard to waltz in and whisk her away.

But they didn't.

Breakfast passed and then lunch and then it was time for Brandon to participate in the jousting.

(Robert was also participating but she couldn't care less.)

And still, no white cloaks.

She was confused, but all she could do was to act like nothing had happened. And by the time they were filing into the tourney stands, she wondered if she'd dreamt the whole thing.

The jousting grounds were bustling with people but she hadn't seen the prince yet, even though she knew he'd be participating. She looked to where the king was sitting, glaring into thin air as a kingsguard whispered something in his ear.

“Are you alright, Lya?” Ned asked her, looking concerned. She turned to him and assured him she was fine. Before he could say anything else, Brandon rode up to them.

“Little sister! Fair Lyanna, would you grace me with your favor?” he boomed out. She rolled her eyes at him but pulled a ribbon from her hair and leaned over to tie it around his wrist. She saw Robert eyeing them but decidedly ignored him.

“Lya...” Ned started, no doubt about to start raving about how unfair she was being but she quieted him with a look.

And then she saw him.

Prince Rheagar had arrived.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes! the knee to the balls was inspired by mirandu's fic those who favor fire!
> 
> it's just so good man.


	4. The Queen of Love and Beauty

He was glorious.

Seated on a massive black stallion with red ribbons woven into it's mane, his armor dark and scaled like a dragon's, he was unstoppable.

First it was Lord Yohn Royce who fell, defeated.

Then her brother. The look on his face as he got back on his horse, a mix of shock and admiration, made her giggle.

Then came two of the kingsguard; Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, and Ser Barristan Selmy. They too were defeated by the dragon prince.

And so he was victorious.

The cheers were deafening as Rhaegar removed his helmet and his silver hair came free. Lord Whent declared him the champion and his daughter, the previous queen of love and beauty, presented him with a crown of winter roses for him to name the next.

She looked to his wife, the beautiful Elia Martell, as did everyone else. The princess kept her dark eyes on her husband even as he rode past her, and all the smiles and cheers died.

Lyanna was still looking at Elia, who did not move a muscle, and saw her handmaidens cover their mouths in shock as the prince urged on his horse.

And stopped in front of her.

She could do nothing but stare, dumbfounded, as he leaned in and dropped the crown into her lap.

Their gazes met, briefly, before he rode away.

All she could think in that moment was that his eyes were the same shade as the roses before Ned nudged her with his elbow. She looked up and saw that all eyes were on her, including the king's.

Accept the crown and insult the princess or reject it and quite possibly insult the mad king? Before she could decide, Ned took the crown and placed it on her head.

She did not know how to react. She couldn't draw inspiration from past women who'd been named since there'd never been a situation such as this.

So she kept her face neutral, silently surveying the crowd.

Princess Elia's face was blank and she was looking elsewhere, all of her ladies in waiting whispering amongst themselves indignantly, Robert looked absolutely furious, Brandon looked oddly amused, Ned looked distressed, Benjen looked confused and the King just looked annoyed.

Prince Rhaegar was gone.

-

All night she had to wear the crown. Ned had whispered hurriedly in her ear that it would be incredibly rude of her to remove it even though it was all she wanted to do.

As like every evening, there was a feast that lasted long into the night.

It was horrible.

She felt Robert's eyes on her _the entire evening_ and whenever she looked his way he was wearing the same thunderous expression. She'd never wanted to knock him into the dirt more.

Princess Elia sat silent and stoic amongst all her ladies and not once did she look Lyanna's way.

The prince was absent.

As well he should be, thought Lyanna, he'd made a damn fool of himself!

When it was appropriate for her to 'retire' for the evening, she did so without looking back, hastening her steps towards the godswood.

She needed some peace and quiet.

But the gods seemed to have taken offense over something she'd done.

He was there, sitting by the heart tree and clutching his harp.

She didn't care how beautiful his hair looked in the moonlight, or the morose tones that flowed into the night. He'd dishonored her, himself and his wife!

Damn the consequences!

She ripped the crown from her head and threw it at him, as hard as she could.

He looked up in surprise, first at her, then down at the crown.

"I don't care whether you're the crown prince or the damn Warrior himself! Why would you do that!?" her ferocious voice echoed through the clearing. He seemed to collect himself, and smiled.

"You won."

"What?"

"You are a champion, Lady Stark. A champion should wear a crown." he said simply and held a blue petal between his fingers.

She stared at him, once again dumbfounded.

He made a thoughtful noise, "First you knee me in the thigh and then you throw flora at me." he looked at her, a smile tugging at his lips, "I see why you're known as the she-wolf."

"Wha- thigh?" she blurted out.

He raised a silver brow. "Yes?"

"Oh." Relief flooded through her and the odd urge to laugh. Thank the gods.

He narrowed his eyes at her, thoughtful. "Where did you think you hit?"

"It was... dark." was all she said.

He looked at her and she got the feeling he wanted to laugh at her so she threw him a nasty glare.

He did laugh then. "She-wolf indeed."

She crossed her arms and raised a brow at him.

He was smiling, and was annoyingly beautiful, and he said, "Nobody talks to me like that."

She froze. Without realizing it, she'd been acting the way she would around her brothers, with _the crown prince_.

He put up his hands, "No! No, no. I don't mean it like a reprimand. I... quite like it."

He did? She opened her mouth, closed it, opened it, et cetera. He was still looking at her, amused.

She frowned, "I... don't know what to say."

"Be yourself, Lady Stark. You're quite intriguing."

She rolled her eyes at that and he laughed. But. _Be yourself_.

Stupidly enough, it struck a chord in her. Here she was wanting desperately for people to see who she was with nothing for it and now the crown prince was telling her to be herself. As if she could!

"What a mighty frown." he said, his eyes laughing. So much laughing with this one. She'd heard the prince was a melancholy sort. It certainly reflected in his songs he used to sing at the feasts, even managing to bring her to tears. And he was always so serious when she saw him in public.

But here he was, hadn't stopped smiling since she entered the clearing.

"You're odd." she told him and he breathed out a laugh.

"I suppose you're right. We're an odd sort, Targaryens." he sounded amused but also... a bit bitter.

Before she could reply, he got up. He placed the crown, some leaves gone but otherwise fine, back on her head.

"Until next time then, Lady Stark."

There would be a next time?

He turned to leave and she watched him go. When he was at the edge of the clearing, she said, "Lyanna."

He stopped, and turned. "Lady Stark?"

"Don't call me Lady Stark if you want me to be myself." she said, eyebrows raised, daring him to refuse. "Call me Lyanna."

His smile returned.

"Until next time then, Lyanna."


End file.
